Overture Downs not my friend but i wont say no

Seemingly, the peculiar woman found some bit of humor in the huntsman’s words, replying to her with a short grunt. “I wouldn’t know,” Ulfric remarked, “I look at you and see no reputation worth remembering.” Frankly, he’d never seen anyone who’d looked quite like her, and there were much nicer ways to say as such than what he’d bellowed out. They shared a distance from one another, a habit taught amongst those experienced in the wildlands, and yet he could smell her as if this noblewoman had pressed along his face and neck. “But my assumptions of you don’t feel so off-kilter anymore,” he’d left that statement up in the air, curious if she’d latch onto it.

Her voice mellowed, like the gentle ocean waves after a cataclysmic storm, and Ulfric could not bring himself to be so disgruntled by it as he often would be. Pacified—a feeling he’d yet to have in this solemn conversation. Ulfric’s paws moved as he paced only a few steps closer, tilting his neck slightly. “You're one funny girl,” then, “real damn funny.” Dry as sand un the blazing, bleeding sun..

Beast.

 He liked that. However, the mention of of him as a troublemaker had been a soft stab to the Eurasian, quickly looking away from the maiden and out into the vast fog behind her. It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know. So, instead of growing hot with agitation, Ulfric chuckled dryly, little more than a scoff, before giving a snide answer, “My work is hardly the same as harassing women on the dirt paths, but it is just as shrewd... Would you believe me if I told you that was enough for me?” Icy blues glazed over her once more. “Is it enough for you?”